


The Good Soldier

by priscilladm



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Lovers to Friends, Pre-Canon, Rebecca "He's not my type" Catalina, Riza "I just need someone to love" Hawkeye, Roy "That's MY Lieutenant" Mustang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilladm/pseuds/priscilladm
Summary: Everyone knows that Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye is a good soldier. They probably wouldn’t think that if they knew how much she loved other soldiers.
Relationships: Rebecca Catalina & Riza Hawkeye, Rebecca Catalina/Riza Hawkeye, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 13
Kudos: 30





	The Good Soldier

With her closely cropped hair and impeccably pressed uniform, Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye is the vision of a good soldier.

She is well-known among her peers and colleagues for being impossibly organized and detail-oriented. Not only is she able to maintain her commanding officer’s busy schedule and wrangle him to complete mountains of paperwork, she can also anticipate his needs in ways that no one else seems to understand.

That being said, she’s never been a talkative person. Between losing her mother at a young age, being neglected by her reclusive father all the way up to his death, and participating in the Ishvalan genocide, there’s never been room for unnecessary chatter. Still, in spite of all the trauma in her life—or perhaps even because of it—she is punctual, precise, and polite, with an exceptional talent for reading a room and understanding people’s motivations. Though she has no subordinates of her own, she can command a room when necessary; while others use loud volumes and long speeches to gain attention, the softness of her voice encourages people to listen attentively. And she’s immensely adept at reading non-verbal cues.

At work she’s usually deeply engrossed in her assigned tasks, so outside sounds don’t distract her much. It comes with the territory of not having one’s own individual office: people are constantly scuttling and scurrying about, and it serves her no purpose to pay any mind to things not directly affecting her. The scars of Ishval still remain with her to this day, but the one useful thing she has learned from her time in the desert as a sniper is to never lose focus.

On top of this, she’s also effortlessly dignified and poised, with a seemingly uncanny ability to maintain her composure in any situation.

Unless, of course, it has anything to do with two certain people in her life.

She looks up from her desk in the office to see a familiar figure standing in the doorway: her best friend, Warrant Officer Rebecca Catalina.

“Let’s go, Riza!” Rebecca says warmly and excitedly.

Riza glances over at her superior, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, who is peering right back at her. He has a slightly befuddled look on his face, which makes her realize that he has absolutely no idea who this seemingly strange woman is. _He’s cute when he’s confused_ , she thinks to herself.

“I apologize for the noise, sir,” she states, walking over quickly to meet Rebecca at the door. “This is Warrant Officer Rebecca Catalina.” She places her hand where Rebecca’s shoulder meets her back and gives her a gentle nudge forward in Roy’s direction. Though this touch is meant to be a quick prod, she finds her hand lingering a little longer than is appropriate, and she hopes that no one notices.

Rebecca offers a crisp salute. “Pleased to meet ya, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang.”

“Thanks, Officer. At ease.”

Riza smiles. “Officer Catalina and I are going out for lunch. I hope you don’t mind.” She pauses, waiting for a response from him, but Rebecca is the one who speaks.

“You know, Lieutenant Colonel, you’re pretty photogenic,” Rebecca states, eyeing him closely. Her tone is a little too casual, but not enough to suggest insubordination. _She’s always been good at that_.

Roy’s eyes perk up in response to what seems like a compliment. “You don’t say?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but you’re a little short and you look better in the photos.”

He clearly doesn’t know how to respond. Riza knows that he’s accustomed to being fawned over as the Hero of Ishval—a title they both privately disdain between themselves but politely acknowledge with others. A woman describing his supposed shortcomings in such a forthright manner is probably something he isn’t used to.

She laughs at this first interaction between the two most important people in her life. She’s deeply close to both of them, but in very different ways, so she hopes that Roy won’t consider recruiting her as part of his unit. They likely would not get along very well, professionally or personally. Besides, she disagrees wholeheartedly with Rebecca’s assessment: she finds him to be just right in all the ways that matter.

She clears her throat, attempting to diffuse the tension. “Sir, if an emergency comes up, I’ll be at Jane’s. I can pick something up for you if you’d like,” she offers.

He shrugs, returning to his paperwork and waving the two soldiers away. “It’s fine. Go.”

—

They aren’t headed for the closest cafe to Eastern Headquarters—that cafe is called The Sunny Spot, and it’s where most of the other soldiers go. Instead, Jane’s is a few more blocks over, giving some semblance of privacy to those soldiers who don’t care to be seen out and about. It’s not a seedy location by any means; rather, it’s an off-the-beaten-path cafe that makes people feel more at home and comfortable.

She wonders if Rebecca’s choice for lunch is indicative of anything, but she brushes it off as they take their seats outside.

“How ya been, Riza?” Rebecca asks, perusing the menu disinterestedly.

She sighs back. “I won’t ever miss the desert, but I’ll admit it’s not exactly thrilling to research potential new State Alchemists.”

“Why bother? You don’t need a new one. You have Mustang.”

Riza gives her a puzzled look. “We don’t have enough after the war in Ishval,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Rebecca rolls her eyes and her lips curl up in a smirk. “You totally have the hots for him.”

This observation is astute. As a good soldier, Riza’s usually able to keep her feelings in check, but sometimes she can’t help admiring the way the light hits Roy’s dark eyes, or the huskiness in his voice when he’s a little tired. She limits those glances to when he’s consumed with work, because she doesn’t know how she’d handle it if he were to ever catch her.

Still, those feelings are highly inappropriate and deeply personal to her, especially as a generally private person. This may be her best friend, but they’re still in public. “He’s my commanding officer,” she responds dismissively. She’s never been good at lying to Rebecca, so this is the best she can do.

The server comes to drop off glasses of water and collect their orders. Rebecca asks for a cinnamon bun, a side order of bacon, and a glass of apple juice. It’s certainly an odd combination, but Riza neither says nor thinks anything of it. She has always known her best friend to have unique taste.

“And for you, miss?” the server asks, turning to her.

“I’ll have a chicken salad sandwich, no side,” she answers, handing him her menu. “And I’d also like to place a to go order. A club sandwich with a side salad. No cucumbers in the salad, please.” 

The server nods, noting the order. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll get those started for you both right away.”

Rebecca smiles as the server walks away. “That to go order is for your Hottie Alchemist, isn’t it?”

“If we’re being precise, his title is the Flame Alchemist, but in the office he prefers to be called by his rank,” she states plainly.

“Ugh. You are killing me here.”

“I’m not,” Riza replies, with a hint of a grin on her face. “I can, if you want.”

They both laugh. Some things don’t change.

—

When they first met each other as academy roommates, Riza was unsure how she’d be able to handle the rambunctious brunette. From the get go, it was clear that they were complete opposites. She was quiet and composed, while Rebecca was vivacious and impulsive. But she soon learned other important things: Rebecca had a collection of old valuable coins her grandfather gave her; she hated peanuts so much that she pretended to be deathly allergic to them in the mess hall; she had a large scar on her knee from falling while trying to rescue her little brother from a tree. Every single story Riza listened to made her hungry to learn more about the person who slept in the bunk under her.

Then, Ishval happened.

The day she left the academy to join the war effort, she and the few other cadets were to be shipped off at 2100, hidden in the dead of night to avoid detection in the desert that supposedly housed insurrection. In the hours leading up to Riza’s departure, Rebecca was a sobbing mess, unable to contain herself.

 _Please don’t go_ , Rebecca whimpered weakly. _I couldn’t live with myself for not stopping you if you don’t come back_.

 _Don’t talk like that,_ Riza scolded her. _I’ll be back._

 _I love you, Riza_.

_I love you too, Rebecca._

They’d held each other tightly that evening, refusing to let each other go until the very end. At first they tried to talk about radios, foods they wanted to cook once they had access to a kitchen, books they wanted to read. But it was all too much to bear.

Riza was very clear that she didn’t regret any of what transpired between them, and hoped Rebecca felt the same. But life at the academy was different from real life. If—when—she came back from Ishval, there were rules to follow. Good soldiers could not be involved with each other. Good soldiers couldn’t be distracted from their targets. They could stay friends, but they couldn’t continue to be anything else.

It was in the desert that Riza reunited with the person she’d loved ever since she was a girl. He was yet another person with whom she could not be involved, because a good soldier—and especially a good sniper—can’t find happiness in the military. She trusted him, and he in turn used the knowledge of flame alchemy to kill, breaking her heart. But she found it in her heart to love him again, to believe in his ambitions and guide him along the right path.

Despite her traumatic past and all the people she killed, she’s experienced two very different but equally valid types of love for other people—more than most could ever hope for in a lifetime.

Yet there she was, as a good soldier, unable to do more than love from afar.

—

The two women spend the rest of their lunch catching up in ways that don’t hint at their deeper history. They make plans to do a standing lunch once a month, to make each other a priority. They vow to go to the shooting range together, Rebecca pleading with Riza to help improve her aim. Rebecca comments on how the cinnamon bun is good, but that she’d like Riza to make some for her soon, please, because her icing-to-bun ratio is perfect. Riza asks if she’ll accompany her to the animal shelter, where she likes to look at all the abandoned dogs in the hope of some day adopting one—and the response from Rebecca is an enthusiastic _Duh, why wouldn’t I?_

At the end of their meal, the server comes by with both the check and Roy’s lunch, neatly packed in a to go box placed inside a small cloth bag. Both of them eye the check and reach to grab it at the same time, with Riza’s fingertips incidentally brushing the top of Rebecca’s hand.

“I guess you can pay since you got lunch for Mustang too,” Rebecca says nonchalantly, allowing her hand to linger a little more than necessary.

Riza smiles, drawing her hand away to fish the necessary cenz out of the breast pocket of her jacket and placing the coins on the table. “Shall we?”

As they walk, side by side, Riza leans in and allows the knuckles of her free hand to brush against Rebecca’s. The two exchange a knowing smile as Riza intertwines her fingers with her best friend’s. She knows this feeling will be short-lived, but she loves the warmth and comfort brewing in her heart at this woman’s touch nonetheless. Even though it might be dangerous to hold hands in public, especially with their dress blues on, it’s easier for them to dismiss any suggestion of impropriety as mere misunderstandings of female friendship. As far as they know, no one is aware of the deeper parts of their relationship while at the academy: private nicknames, foregoing the bunks in their shared room to sleep on the floor cradling each other, tender goodbye kisses before going to class in the mornings.

But there would be no goodbye kiss today.

“Rebecca, why did you pick Jane’s for lunch?”

The brunette laughs, looking at Eastern Headquarters in the near-distance and withdrawing her hand. “Because I was hoping you’d have some stories for me about _him_. You’re so in love with him, it’s sickening.”

Riza frowns, but she can’t deny it. This woman was on the receiving end of her ardent love at one point—of all people, she would recognize the signs.

“No matter how far we are, that’s still an inappropriate suggestion to bring up in public,” she responds, once again deflecting.

“Riza, you know you can always talk to me, right?” Rebecca says reassuringly. “I’m not jealous. I just want you to be happy, whatever that means.”

They walk into headquarters and approach Rebecca’s office, which she shares with other members of Lieutenant General Grumman’s team. The goodbye salute is brief and feels impersonal when compared to all the embraces and kisses of the past, but their lives are different now. They’re good soldiers. Good soldiers give strong salutes.

Still, as she watches Rebecca take her seat, it hurts that she is in such close proximity but somehow also out of reach. It’s the same way she feels about Roy.

She walks into her own shared office and announces her return. Roy nods and gives her a disengaged glance before returning his gaze to the newspaper he’s currently perusing. She senses unease and annoyance in his eyes, but she knows better than to probe, especially not in the office. Besides, she’s done nothing wrong.

Instead, she approaches his desk and places his lunch in front of him, seemingly as a peace offering—for what, she isn’t even sure. “I thought you might enjoy something besides mess hall food.”

“You two are chummy,” Roy states caustically, ignoring the lunch in front of him and continuing to read the newspaper.

Hiding her hurt pride, she takes a seat at her desk and finds a hardbound copy of the military code, open to a section with which she is all too familiar.

“And just what are you suggesting, sir?”

“You might consider reading what I’ve left you on your desk.”

“A copy of the anti-fraternization laws. With all due respect, I’m well aware of these laws,” she remarks, thumbing through the pages in boredom.

Of course she knows those laws; she doesn’t even need to read them anymore because she has committed them to memory. In her weaker moments—when she imagines what it might feel like for his lips to press against hers or his breath to dance along her skin—she recites the applicable sections of the laws to help herself refocus. She often wonders if Roy has ever read them. She doubts it.

“Then you might want to tone it down a notch with Warrant Officer Catalina.”

She shoots him a look that is equal parts puzzled and frustrated. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“You mean to tell me you’re not involved with her?”

Riza feels warmth rise in her cheeks. “ _Of course not_ , sir,” she replies firmly. She senses a hint of defensiveness in her own tone, but she can’t bring herself to care. “She’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since the academy. Your implication is silly at best and dangerous at worst.”

His shoulders drop as he looks up at her and makes full eye contact for the first time. His eyes shift into kindness and remorse as he sighs heavily. “Sorry, Lieutenant. That was out of line. Noted.”

At first, she’s not sure how to respond. In some ways it does feel like he’s speaking out of line, but on the other hand, she and Roy have known each other for years. He’s the most observant person she knows, quietly taking note of her favorite herbal tea, her favorite flowers, and the kinds of food she likes. Somehow, this infamous alchemist knows how to both make her laugh and provide desperately needed solace even when she carries on with a façade of strength. It’s one of the reasons she loves him so much.

But she could never imagine him to be in love with her the same way she is with him. His reaction couldn’t be jealousy. And even if it was, there was nothing inappropriate about her interaction with Rebecca. It was just a small nudge, to encourage Rebecca to introduce herself, as a good soldier should do.

 _Oh_ , she thinks to herself. _It’s that touch._

Still, the possibility of his jealousy serves no purpose in moving them forward—not in this moment, and not in their long path ahead. Instead she nods, brushing off his comment. “It’s alright, sir. But please have a little faith.”

She watches as he unwraps his lunch. A smile washes over his face as he realizes that not only has she ordered his favorite meal from Jane’s, but that she even ordered it to his specifications. She chuckles to herself at how quickly his mood has changed.

“Thanks, Hawkeye. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Maybe he is jealous. Maybe he does love her.

But she doesn't know, and it doesn’t matter. She knows their goals and won’t let anything get in their way.

There are things that Riza isn’t proud of in her life. Things that have hurt her, others, or even both. Still, she knows what her duty is, and she lives by it every day.

At least everyone else thinks she’s a good soldier.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Flight_at_Midnight for 1) inspiring me to write about bi Riza and 2) beta'ing this for me! As a queer person myself, my goal was to write this in a way that sensitively explored Riza's inner turmoil without being gratuitous or exploitative. I hope this is reflected in the work.


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